Gothmog stepped forward to the incoming skantily armoured skeletons, with his Evil-Bell-End(tm) attitude on show. He was ready, and the others in the party had high expectations.Gothmog stepped forward to the incoming skantily armoured skeletons, with his Evil-Bell-End(tm) attitude on show. He was ready, and the others in the party had high expectations.
Nobody would know just how many milennia he had taken in this plane of existence to perfect the Evil-Bell-End(tm) (now only known as EBE) aura he projected about himself. Being from the ethereal realm it was obvious to wizards and high priests that having a personality nor even a persona was not in the list of priorites of the immortal beings and monsters there. The other dimension had existed for eons before this one had appeared and anyone who had a personality there generally disappeared up their own anus, or ethereal equivalent, after only a million years or so. What was left was a soulless-party of beings with more or less of the same attitude and outlook to the supralife they led.
So what did Gothmog do when he was accidentally displaced across dimensions 10,000 years ago from his beloved petunia garden to the mayhem we know and love today? He quickly developed a gusto for immitating humanoid personalities, and wearing dark shades. He knew he wasn't buying it, and that his aeons of previous life's experience would always come through and return his personality back to it's 'logical' reasoning. However he worked hard and he was almost accepted as one of the more eccentric people that roamed the lands... Although awkward questions were asked when he disrobed to find 400 ethereal tentacles where his sporran should be.
So here he was, in EBE mode, immortal (the first trick he learnt was playing 'dead' while not giggling), and about to be overwhelmed by a throng of skeltons in spikey thongs. What did he do?
For inspiration he quickly read the wikipedia entry on 'Undead', and found that if you slew their creator his creations would likewise be dispatched. With this in mind then, and noting the wee fellow skulking at the back, he launched an insidious and banana shaped fireball around the mass of oncoming bones veering to his intended target not accostomed to such bendy fireworks.
The small skulky guy exploded in a ball of flames, the bones dropped to the floor with a clatter.
"Wow that was eeevillly cool!" shouted Leif. "How do you swerve the fireballs?"
Gothmog, gave him one of his special EBE stares. A perfectly timed pregnant pause then followed with the following cryptic response.
"I have perfected a technique attaching fireballs to the location of my Bell End."
The author used to live about 10 km from there, and let me tell you that going to 131 would be far more interesting.